


Tooth, Talon, and Talk

by dangermouses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangermouses/pseuds/dangermouses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>EDIT: THIS IS BEING REWRITTEN.</p><p>So I kind of maybe wrote Ladyhawke/Teen Wolf which is probably entirely ooc because I was half asleep. Ladyhawke is a stellar 80s film y’all need to watch btw and yet I take MAJOR liberties with the plot and with the placement of the folk on the show. Half asleep, remember?</p><p>If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know Stiles HAD to be the character he is... so, yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tooth, Talon, and Talk

The Mouse was the best thief in the country, and currently stuck in a drain.

Stiles paused for breath, closing his eyes against the grime and the stench that he was digging through. The drain he was climbing down was narrow and filled with broken stone and brick, each piece managing to poke into his sides at just the right angle to be entirely agonising. Another breath, and he was moving again, muttering to himself, “Almost like being born. Ugh, bad thought. Block it out, block it out, block it out. Keep going, Stiles. Onward, upward, and away from this place.”

Above, in the filthy jail cells of Aquila, the guardsman moved through the metal-barred cages to choose who would be next for the rope. He had been one of those to bring the Mouse in - he had led them a merry chase and made fools of them all with his wicked tongue. He would be glad to see the boy hang. First he had to find him; the cell was empty but for starving cravens and a tiny grate, pulled free of the floor.

The alarms were sounded.

**X X X**

‘This is disgusting. Don’t think about it, Stiles, just keep wading, just keep wading- oh please let that be an animal skull, pleasepleaseplease.’

Soon enough, wading became swimming and he found himself thanking his father for forcing him to learn when he was a child, even though he had loathed the water. His father had held his small body up as he struggled to co-ordinate his limbs through the freezing water; his mother had watched from the bank, her expression fond and worried. It was always worried, and for good reason - three weeks after that she would be dead, at the hands of drunk guardsmen, and his father too.

‘I swear, on my parent’s graves, if I get out of this shit alive then I’ll never steal again. Dad, if you’re listening, I swear I will never pick another pocket in my whole life. Of course, I have to live to prove that, so if you could have a word God’s ear up there… just a thought.’

A thought that was cut short as a wrong foot sent him careening down one of the weirs that were dotted through the sewer systems. In a heartbeat, he was underwater, being carried along by the current through the stone tunnels. What had kept him alive so far was his ability to think, to _really_ think, even when the world was going to hell around him; it saved his life again, as the water carried him down into a dark chamber, and he managed to keep from panicking long enough to see the grate above him - a grate with a rusted lock.

A swift kick and it gave, letting him surge upwards into the river, and to freedom.

**X X X**

Kate Argent was the King’s Captain, and ruler of Aquila. She was a strict and sometimes cruel leader, keeping the peace through fear and order. She stalked down the white corridor of her castle, the alarm bells sounding around her like a death knell - to anyone who did not know her, her expression would seem petulant, non-threatening. Those who served her knew to look to her eyes, to see the cold fury there and to be afraid.

Her niece and the captain of her own castle guard, Allison Argent, stood under one of the arches leading to the courtyard. She carried no sword but a bow slung over her shoulder, and was known to be deadly with it; she was a quiet, calm woman who served her family without love or devotion. She had become their soldier, groomed from a young age when she was sent to live under her aunt’s command.

‘Tell me why the bells are ringing, dear. I’m getting a headache.’

Allison turned to her aunt, uncertainty in her eyes. ‘A prisoner has escaped.’

Kate smiled, a cold and metallic thing. ‘Don’t be silly. No one escapes from the dungeons of Aquila. The people know this, it is history. Like the stars in the sky, or the phases of the moon.’ She continued to walk past Allison, through the pillared corridors.

Allison had never liked her aunt’s odd familiarity and turn of phrase, but she was hers to command and that meant respect. She moved to catch up. ‘The responsibility is mine.’

‘Yes.’ Kate’s voice was sharp and held sharper promises. Allison faltered, walking beside her and quickly filling the silence left by her implication.

‘He probably won’t get out of the sewers alive. He has no way to navigate, no way of finding an out - and he’s only a boy, a pickpocket-‘

Kate whirls on her, her smile too full of teeth to be kind and the eyes above it sharp like the edge of a blade. ‘And if a boy can escape from Aquila? No one escapes Aquila, Allison, or the noose round the necks of these tiny people will loosen and, one by one, we will lose them. And if we lose them? We lose the foundation of this city. Fear rules; if they are not afraid, then we do not rule.’

Allison swallowed and bowed her head. ‘If he is out there, I will find him.’

In the same weighted tone as before, Kate answered. ‘Yes.’

**X X X**

Stiles trod water under the wooden pier, listening to the horses and men assembling above him. He shivered, though whether with the cold or the cowardice he wasn’t sure.

A woman’s voice rang out across the assembled guards, assigning them towns to search; she did not sound cruel or angry, which Stiles worried about since angry people were so much easier to manoeuvre. ‘The good name of the man who finds this Mouse will be brought to the attention of the King’s Captain herself. As will the head of the man who lets him slip through their fingers.’

Stiles swallowed; that may not be an angry person, but it’s certainly not someone with a healthy outlook on life. _Specifically mine._

He waited for the guards to cross the bridge, until he could no longer hear hoof beats, then made for the shore - pausing to slip the money purse from the belt of a dozing drunk, through the wooden slats of the pier. As he swam away, aiming for the shore nearest the woods, he muttered softly, ‘Now Dad, if you’re listening, I know I said no more stealing. I also know that you know that my word means about as much as my bond, and my track record when it comes to temptation...’


End file.
